


Ruin My Body (Ruin My Life)

by Vidriana



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Breathplay, Come Marking, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Service Submission, Spanking, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/pseuds/Vidriana
Summary: “Here’s how this is gonna go,” Freddie addresses the room at large. “Kappy had a fucking fantastic game and he deserves a reward.” The chorus of agreement that breaks out at Freddie’s words sends a rush of heat through Kappy’s body. “The thing is, Kappy likes his rewards a bit rough."





	Ruin My Body (Ruin My Life)

**Author's Note:**

> The game on December 23rd against the Red Wings gave us glorious pictures (and gifs) of Kappy looking...really happy to be manhandled after he scored the OT winner. So, naturally, I had to write this. And then it escalated and somehow grew to 20k. I have no regrets. 
> 
> Thousands of thanks to my wonderful beta who plotted and edited this with me, and encouraged me all the way through writing this. I just couldn't do these things without you <3
> 
> All participating characters are tagged. Please mind the content tags.

The goal horn is loud, but it almost drowns in the ensuing roar of the crowd when they realize the puck is in the net. Kappy is still lying on the ice, a rush of relief and happiness coursing through his body, a new stream of energy for his tired muscles. He doesn’t even manage to get back on his feet before Mo comes careening towards him.

“You fucking did it!” he yells, and half leans down to Kappy, half falls on him, their helmets knocking together as he tries to wrap his arms around Kappy and pull him up. Kappy isn’t in any hurry to move, but lets Mo pull him along. Mo’s grip on him is strong enough that he can feel it through all the padding and it sends a little shiver down his spine.

When he manages to get back on his feet, he’s surrounded by his teammates. Bodies all around him, pressing close and petting his head, their rowdy movements tugging at his hair. He gets pulled into a hug by someone, then instantly let go and jostled around until he finds himself in someone else’s arms, a hand patting his shoulder, another clapping him on the back. People from all sides, with their hands on him, showering Kappy in a steady stream of praise and joy, but he can barely make out their words over the roaring in his head.

A gloved hand is on his neck, pushing his head up, and he instinctively tilts it to bare his throat as the rough fabric scrapes against the soft skin there. It’s gone an instant later, and Kappy yearns for the feeling back, for someone to move his body how they want it. It’s the final clue that makes Kappy realize he’s close to slipping under.

He looks through the crowd of bodies around him. There’s John, skating away from him and over to Mitch, and Kappy isn’t sure, but he thinks he might have been the one who’d grabbed his neck. Most of the others are on their way to the tunnel now, but Mo is still hovering close by. 

Kappy’s eyes flit over familiar faces until they find Willy’s, drawn over as if by some magnetic pull no-one but them can feel. He’s terribly far away, not at all in touching distance and Kappy wonders why he’s not closer, why he isn’t right here, pulling Kappy under his arm and ruffling his hair. Willy tilts his head in an inviting motion and Kappy is all too happy to follow the cue.

“You gotta make sure to reward this one tonight,” a voice behind Kappy says, and he’s not too far gone to recognize his liney. The resulting smirk on Willy’s face is glorious, filled with pride and affection in equal measure.

“I’ll think of something.” The normal pitch of Willy’s voice is almost drowned out by the noise of the crowd all around them, the cheering and clapping, and Kappy had somehow forgotten how loud the arena still is. “I have a pretty good idea what he likes,” Willy continues, and his eyes linger on Kappy’s neck for just a second, enough to make Kappy’s throat go dry.

Willy doesn’t do this, is the thing. He’s not into it the way Kappy is, and that’s okay. They have their arrangement and Kappy still gets what he wants, but sometimes he likes to imagine what it would be like with Willy. They haven’t seen each other all summer, and they haven’t kept in contact as closely as they usually do, because of the contract negotiations, and Kappy can’t help but wish that maybe— 

Someone tugs at his sleeve and Kappy looks up to find that he’s made his way to the hallway with no recollection of how he got there. “You’re first star,” someone says, and hands Kappy a different stick to give to a fan. Kappy looks a bit helplessly at Willy’s retreating back as he makes his way back to the locker room. 

An arm wraps around his shoulder, and he looks over to find John standing next to him. “Good job, kid,” he says and runs the edge of his glove along Kappy’s chin, just a shadow of his action out on the ice, that nonetheless makes Kappy want to push into it. A shiver races down his spine and he can barely suppress a gasp. Before he can do anything, can ask John if he knows what he’s doing, if he has any idea what this does to Kappy, he’s gone, back out on the ice to accept the applause for the second star.

Mo claps Kappy on the shoulder with enough force to feel it through the layers as he walks past. “Good job, buddy.” The gentleness of the words doesn’t match the way Kappy’s knees feel weak.

John brushes past him only moments later, and a hand against Kappy’s back pushes him back to the tunnel. He lets his feet carry him without conscious thought. The bright lights in the Scotiabank arena are overwhelming when he’s out there alone. He knows he should cherish this, should revel in the praise of the fans, but he feels jittery, unsettled. 

It’s over just as fast as it had begun. Kappy takes a lap around the ice, passes his stick over the glass to a fan, and then he’s already back in the tunnel and halfway to the locker room. There’s an electric buzzing just underneath his skin and it makes him feel too alert, too on edge, and he doesn’t know how to stop it on his own. 

He needs hands on his skin, needs a firm touch to ground him and settle him back in his body, but even if Willy wants to, he’ll have to wait until they’re back in their apartment. It’s one of Kappy’s most reliable fantasies, but Willy has never been one for an audience, has never let Kappy get him off anywhere someone could walk in on them.

The locker room is unusually quiet when he walks in. That’s the first thing that tips him off that something’s different. The usual chaos of people throwing off their gear and heading to the showers is absent. Instead everyone turns to look at him as soon as he enters, most guys still in their sweaty underarmor as they sit in their stalls.

Before he can ask what’s going on, someone closes the door behind him and then a very familiar arm wraps around his side. He turns at the slightest hint of pressure and comes face to face with Willy.

“Hey, game winner.” His voice is low in a way that Kappy usually associates with tousled sheets and far less clothing, not a crowded locker room. “I got something for you.” 

Willy’s fingers against his jaw draw all his attention, and Kappy waits for him to do something, anything, but he just carefully runs his hands up the side of Kappy’s face and underneath the loose-fitting helmet so he can take it off. A strand of hair falls into Kappy’s eyes, obscuring his view, but he doesn’t move. It’s Willy who pushes it back behind his ear, carding his fingers through the tangled, sweaty mess of Kappy’s hair. 

His lips are on Kappy’s a second later, and it’s nothing like the tender, chaste way he usually kisses Kappy in front of other people. This feels hungrier, dominating in a way that makes Kappy feel weak and pliant. He moans when Willy bites into his lower lip, hard enough that it still smarts after Willy pulls away.

“I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” All Kappy can do is stare at him, not quite believing what he’s hearing. Willy’s fingers tighten in his hair, pulling just enough to hurt and Kappy makes no attempt to hide the noise that comes out of his mouth. “I asked you a question,” Willy says, looking at Kappy so intently he can feel it like a physical caress, and, fuck, Kappy loves him so much. 

“Yes. Anything,” he gasps, leaning into Willy’s space, silently willing him to do it again, to kiss him like that again, pull his hair. “Anything you wanna give me.” Willy doesn’t do this kind of thing, but apparently today he does, and Kappy already feels high from it. 

Willy leans in close and his breath brushes over the sensitive shell of Kappy’s ear, making a shudder run through his body. “I figured we should do something special. Something I know you’ve wanted for a while,” Willy whispers. Kappy’s breath catches in his throat. It’s a shock when Willy takes a step backwards, leaving Kappy’s front feeling cold. 

“All the boys were really impressed with you today, but they don’t even know how good you are. Do you wanna show them?” The words sink into Kappy’s stomach like a warm liquid, the heat spreading through all his limbs.

Willy is just standing there, right in front of Kappy, already at the perfect distance to— 

Kappy drops on his knees. He does it too fast, and the locker room floor is hard enough that the impact makes a dull thud, but he barely even registers it. His hands find Willy’s waist automatically, fingers already sneaking underneath the elastic of his shorts to pull them down. A hand covering his own stops him, makes him look up.

Willy’s cheeks are red, but blotchy, not the lovely flush of arousal that’s supposed to spread across his face when Kappy touches him. There’s tension around his eyes and his mouth, like he’s uncomfortable. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean with me.” Willy bites his lip and the heat in Kappy’s body fizzles out. He turns his hands, carefully lacing his own fingers with Willy’s. He badly wants to press a kiss to the back of Willy’s hand, to assure him that it’s okay, that he loves him, but he doesn’t know if Willy wants that right now, so he just stays on his knees.

“I was thinking,” Willy starts, a slight tremor in his voice, “that maybe you might want to be good for them.” It’s sounds far too hesitant, because Willy has to know, Kappy has told him that this is one of his fantasies, one of those he likes to think about, that he never for a moment thought could actually happen. 

“Please,” is all he manages, his voice coming out breathy, almost a moan. It’s enough though. Enough to put that smile back on Willy’s face, to make his spine straighten and his shoulders right themselves. 

“Why don’t we start by getting you undressed?” he suggests. The question sounds more like an order to Kappy, and he nods without even thinking about it. He hadn’t even realized that he’s still wearing all his gear. Hell, even his skates are still on his feet.

“Alright, take off your clothes,” Willy says, and this time Kappy reads it as the permission it is. He rises back to his feet and whips off his jersey, then drops it on the ground at Willy’s nod. His pads are next, carelessly discarded somewhere on the floor of the locker room, but when he reaches for the edge of his shirt, Willy stops him.

“Sit down,” is all he says, and Kappy obediently moves back a couple of paces to sink down in his stall. He likes having Willy towering over him, but he doesn’t get much time to look, to appreciate it, before Willy drops on the ground in front of him. 

“Just let me take care of you, yeah?” Willy mumbles, and Kappy wants to protest, wants to argue that this is the wrong way around, that he’s supposed to be the one attending to Willy’s every wish, but the decisive note in Willy’s voice makes him melt back into his stall. It’s an order, even if it’s phrased as a question, and he never wants to follow orders more than when Willy is the one giving them. 

Willy kneeling on the floor in front of him is a unusual sight, but a welcome one. Kappy likes how the overhead lights frame him, how the shadow of his eyelashes fans across his cheekbones. He wants to reach out and brush Willy’s hair back so he can see him better, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to move, so he just stares in wonder.

Willy taps his calf to get him to lift his foot, and Kappy barely even pays attention to what he’s doing. Willy has really nice shoulders. They always look broader after a summer of training, doing nothing to hide the strength of his frame, and Kappy wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like if Willy tried to pin him. The idea alone makes his throat feel dry. 

It’s something they’ve done before, of course, but Willy has never put all his strength behind it, has never let Kappy struggle and still kept him in place, tightened his grip every time Kappy tried to move against him. 

“Lift your hips for me,” Willy says and Kappy complies to let Willy pull down the baggy hockey pants he’s still wearing. He gets a little pat on his side as a reward and shifts impatiently. Now that all the bulky equipment is gone, he desperately wants Willy’s hands on him. 

Willy gets back to his feet, looming over him, and Kappy could look at him forever. He likes the beard, likes how it doesn’t quite manage to hide the softness of his features while still giving his face a severity that hadn’t been there before. Likes how it feels against his skin when Willy kisses him, even if it is regretfully too soft to leave behind any marks. The lights are partially hidden behind Willy’s head now, illuminating the stray hairs that stand up wildly from his head.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kappy breathes out, and watches in fascination as colour rushes to Willy’s cheeks. 

“He’s not wrong,” a voice off to Kappy’s side says, and it’s the first time in a good five minutes that Kappy registers his teammates around him. Willy blushes even more at Freddie’s words, the red flush spreading down his neck as he turns toward him and Kappy wants to press his hands to the skin there, wants to feel if it’s warm to the touch.

“You wanna take over now?” Willy asks, and it sends a shiver through Kappy’s body. His eyes wander over Freddie, who shouldn’t be able to look imposing in a sweaty Leafs shirt, but still does. He lingers on Freddie’s hands, large and familiar, and a spike of arousal goes through him.

“For all that you claim not to be into it, you’ve been doing remarkably well,” Freddie says, still looking at Willy with that calm steadiness he always exudes. Willy runs a hand through his hair and lets out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, well. I try.” He gives a little over-exaggerated bow, before taking a step back, moving away from Kappy and taking all the warm contentedness in Kappy’s chest with him.

“You want to be good for me, Kappy? For us?” Freddie asks. His hand finds the back of Kappy’s neck and squeezes, and Kappy is instantly transported to the familiar living room of Freddie’s condo, to the way they signal the start of a scene together there.

It’s that intimate tone that always makes Kappy want to obey. He nods, probably far too eager judging by the amused crinkling of Freddie’s eyes. “Well, why are you still wearing that then?” he continues with a nudge towards Kappy’s clothes, a hint of disapproval swinging along in his voice, enough to get Kappy moving right away.

His shirt is already on the floor, his hands at his waistband, when a tut from Freddie makes him pause mid movement. “Don’t rush through it like that. And don’t hide away in a corner where no one can see you.” Kappy lets his hands drop away, heat creeping up his neck. For the second time today he becomes aware that all his teammates are looking at him when he steps into the middle of the room, but it’s not uncomfortable. All he has to do is listen to Freddie. 

_Don’t rush._ He hooks his thumb in the waistband of his leggings, pulling them down inch by inch, teasing, like he’s on stage in a strip club and not in the middle of a locker room, in front of people who’ve seen all he has to offer multiple times already. “That’s better,” Freddie comments, leaning against the stall Kappy had just been sitting in and watching him patiently.

Kappy makes a show of pulling the leggings over his ass and working them down his thighs till he’s left standing only in his underwear. He’s half-hard already just from the anticipation, from Willy’s instructions and Freddie’s orders, but it doesn’t feel urgent, an insignificant hum at the back of his mind, drowned out by the feeling of Freddie’s expectations on him. 

“That’s good for now,” Freddie declares, pushing himself upright. “Get on your knees.” Kappy doesn’t drop to the floor as fast as he had for Willy, but that doesn’t mean he hesitates. There’s simply more grace to the movement this time, Freddie’s _Don’t rush_ still lingering.

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” Freddie addresses the room at large. “Kappy had a fucking fantastic game and he deserves a reward.” The chorus of agreement that breaks out at Freddie’s words sends a rush of heat through Kappy’s body. “The thing is,” Freddie continues, stepping closer until he’s next to Kappy. He’s always tall, but from this angle he’s huge. Kappy makes himself look at the floor instead of staring up. 

“Kappy likes his rewards a bit—” There’s barely any warning. Freddie grabs a handful of his hair and pulls. It hurts, much more than when Willy had playfully tugged at his hair before and it shocks a moan out of Kappy’s throat. The pressure is gone as soon as it had started, leaving him panting on the floor. “—Rough.”

Kappy can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Isn’t that right?” he adds, bending down to talk to Kappy, and he nods his head helplessly.

“Yes. Please. I want that.” The words spill from his mouth without his permission, but they seem to please Freddie. He gives Kappy’s hair another tug, gentler this time, but it still stings and Kappy gasps quietly.

“Ground rules. You can do whatever you want, given you clear it with me or Willy beforehand.” The mention of his boyfriend’s name makes Kappy look up, eyes immediately seeking Willy, but Freddie tightens his grip on his hair, immobilizing his head. “If it’s a sex thing, you ask Willy. If you want to hurt him, you ask me. Clear?”

No one says anything for a moment. Kappy is pretty sure some of them are even holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

“Anyone wanna start, or do you need another demonstration?” Freddie asks. When the stunned silence holds on, he yanks on Kappy’s hair once more, pulling his head back so he has to look up, even as his eyes water from the sharp pain. “Looks like they’re shy,” he muses. “Good thing you’re not.”

His eyes feel heavy as they travel across Kappy’s body and he hums. “Where should I start? You still remember what we did last time?” Nodding hurts as the pull on his hair gets even tighter, but Kappy does it anyway. “Good, would you like me to show the others?” Another nod, less painful as Freddie relaxes his hold, before letting go fully. 

“Hands and knees,” Freddie orders and Kappy complies immediately. The carpeted floor of the locker room feels soft against his palms and he runs his hand across it, enjoying the texture.

The first blow takes him by surprise, so much that he starts forward to get away from the impact without him even realizing he’s doing it. Freddie’s hand lands on his ass a second time before he’s able to gather himself, still not anywhere as hard as Freddie had hit him when they’d last scened together, but it leaves behind a flare of pain anyway, even through the thin fabric of his underwear. He lets out a helpless moan at the impact, pushing back into it this time, but Freddie doesn’t hit him again.

“Did I tell you to move?” he asks, voice cold. Kappy shakes his head and sinks more fully into the position, straightening his spine and distributing his weight more evenly across his hands and knees before going tense and still. It feels like a long time before Freddie touches him again, but Kappy doesn’t let his guard down, doesn’t relax or look up, just waits patiently with his head bowed and his body rigid. 

When Freddie finally hits him, it feels different than before. It’s a sharp sting, his tense muscles doing nothing to lessen it and Kappy groans. “Good,” Freddie comments, before delivering a series of slightly harder blows in quick succession. He doesn’t hit the same spot every time, but his hands are large enough that most blows graze already tender areas. The heat of it starts spreading through Kappy as he silently counts each individual hit in his head.

Freddie stops at twenty, leaves his hand lying over Kappy’s cloth-covered ass. He presses his fingertips into the muscle, making a different type of pain shoot through Kappy, and he has to fight to stop his body from moving, but he manages.

“You get the picture, yeah?” Freddie says, and it takes a second for Kappy to realize that he’s talking to the others, to their audience. “Anyone want to go next, now that I’ve warmed him up a bit?”

“That was warming up?” someone asks, and Kappy’s body goes hot in a different way at the awed tone. He doesn’t look up to check who said it, but that’s only because Freddie’s orders supersede all curiosity.

“Oh, he can take a lot more than that.” A new wave of heat, even more intense now, at praise from Freddie. “Wanna try it?” 

There’s a pause. “I’ll go next,” a different voice finally says. A voice Kappy recognizes easily. “Can I—” the question breaks off, but there’s a movement in the periphery of Kappy’s vision. It’s enough to clue him in that Auston must have mimed the rest, but not enough to know what it was. The uncertainty sends a thrill through his body, especially when he sees Auston’s feet coming closer.

“Get back on your knees for this,” Freddie orders. Kappy moves to sit back on his haunches and the pressure on his ass hurts, but he keeps his head down, just listens to Auston’s quiet footsteps until his feet and legs appear in front of him.

“Look up,” Auston commands, much softer than Freddie. Kappy catches a glance at part of the room when he raises his head, but his view of flushed faces and interested stares is quickly blocked by Auston’s large frame. “Hey there,” he says, voice still soft, but there’s glint of something more challenging in his eyes.

“You know how to do this?” Freddie asks, and Auston nods, his eyes flicking from Kappy’s face to somewhere behind him where Freddie had retreated. 

“Yeah, I’ve done this before.” One hand reaches for Kappy’s chin, tipping his head up more so they’re staring right at each other. His other hand cups Kappy’s cheek in a gesture that’s more loving than their relationship really warrants. Auston gives him another smile that’s just the slightest bit too sharp to be kind, and then he slaps Kappy.

The blow would have jerked Kappy’s head to the side, but Auston’s hand on his cheek stops that from happening. Still, the shock of it has Kappy so off-balance, he has to brace one hand against the floor to catch himself. It takes a second for him to properly feel the stinging in his cheek, to feel the way his skin heats as blood rises close to the surface. It’s difficult to stop himself from reaching up with his hand to touch his own face and check if he can feel a difference.

“Okay?” Auston asks. There’s a quiver in his voice. Kappy has to mentally shake himself out of lingering on the new sensation and turns his head to look back up at Auston.

“Please.” Kappy has to swallow, has to stop himself from slurring the words as he settles back on his knees properly. “Please do that again.” The bit of uncertainty drops away from Auston’s face, leaving behind only a confident smirk.

“Sure thing,” he says, and slaps Kappy again. This time he’s expecting it, but it’s still a lot. Freddie doesn’t do this, or at least doesn’t do this with him, but Kappy still knows what it’s supposed to look like. He lets Auston’s hand on his cheek be the only thing bracing his head, doesn’t try to resist or hold still on his own, knows that it makes hits seem even harder.

He moves his head back into position without being told to and Auston rewards him with another slap. It’s more intense than when Freddie had spanked him before, the impact more immediate against his naked skin, almost no fat or muscle to cushion the blow. It’s also more intimate, feels more personal. 

Kappy’s cheek is burning after just three hits, the skin heated, and he knows how red he gets, can only imagine what he must look like. The next one takes him by surprise again. Auston moves his hand away from Kappy’s face, stops bracing his cheek, and instead of slapping him with his bare palm, Auston backhands him, hitting his other cheek and making pain blossom up on both sides of his face.

A high, needy sound makes its way past Kappy’s lips in surprise. “Fuck, you’re really into this, aren’t you?” Auston asks when he eventually gives Kappy a small reprieve. Kappy nods without thinking much about it. His head feels cloudy, like his brain is filled with soft, fluffy cotton. The only thing he can still think about is the pain and Auston in front of him. 

“You getting off on this too?” Auston wonders aloud. “Because it looks like you are.” Kappy whines. His underwear is damp with precome already, his cock hard and trapped inside it. There’s arousal thrumming all through his body, but it doesn’t feel like it’s his to touch, to fulfill or deny, either way. He doesn’t know what Auston wants to hear, so he doesn’t say anything, just moves his head back into position and closes his eyes. Distantly he thinks that the only thing that would make this better, would be a blindfold.

“Fine, whatever.” The next slap is harder than the previous ones and Kappy moans at the new sting of it. It goes on until Kappy gets back into position and nothing happens. He waits for Auston to talk, but there’s only heavy breathing, so Kappy reluctantly opens his eyes. Auston is flushed and he’s panting like he’d just finished a long shift. He shakes out his wrist with an annoyed movement. 

“That’s it for me, I think,” he says and Kappy can’t stop the unhappy noise that leaves his mouth at that. Auston grins. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of others here. I’m sure they’re on board now that I showed them how it’s done.” That gets a couple of jeers and catcalls and Auston’s grin widens. He pats Kappy’s cheek, and even the soft touch hurts after the beating he’d just taken. Kappy leans into it, resisting the urge to close his eyes again.

“You’re really something.” Auston’s voice is full of wonder, and Kappy preens a bit, warmth spreading in his chest at the praise. He’s still caught up in the unfamiliar pain in his face when Auston moves back to his stall, but then he feels a soft touch on his shoulder, making him look up. The way Willy smiles down at him is gentle and familiar and warms Kappy even more than any praise ever could.

“Hey, you’re doing really well,” Willy says, immediately disproving Kappy’s previous assumption. “I was wondering if you wanted to get off.” Kappy’s breath catches. The undercurrent of arousal turns into a stream, suddenly wild and powerful, but it feels like something stolen, something that doesn’t belong to him. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks instead of answering Willy’s question. Opening his mouth makes the pain in his cheeks flare up again, sending another spark of arousal slithering down Kappy’s spine, but he ignores it. “I can wait if you want me to.”

Kappy desperately wants Willy to agree, to tell him to wait. It’s probably too much, nothing they’ve ever talked about before, but Kappy can’t think, too caught up in what his body wants. 

Willy looks conflicted. He bites his lip and looks over at Freddie, who must give him some sort of gesture, because his shoulders straighten as if steeling himself for something, before he leans down to Kappy’s height.

“Okay,” he whispers, close enough to Kappy’s ear that no one else can hear him. “I want you to wait then.” His lips brush the shell of Kappy’s ear, and then he gives him a playful nip. “Wait until I tell you to come.” It's like someone had reached straight into Kappy’s most desperate fantasies and pulled his boyfriend out into this reality. 

He turns his head to follow Willy as he backs off and it’s only Freddie’s hand grabbing his chin and turning him back that makes him realize his mouth had been hanging open the whole time. “Your boy’s quite something, huh?” Freddie muses, and Kappy nods, eyes still trying to find Willy again. “Alright, who wants to go next?” There’s a murmur of different voices, but Kappy is barely listening.

“Uh, I’d like to try, I think,” someone says.

“You think?” Freddie asks, raising an eyebrow as he lets go of Kappy’s chin, giving Kappy free rein to look for who’d spoken. 

Travis looks nervous, but eager at the same time, much like Kappy remembers him looking before a playoff game. “I mean, I’ve never done this before, but I really want to.” He smiles sheepishly and takes a hesitant step closer, then crosses the distance between them completely when Freddie gestures for him to come over. 

“I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry,” Freddie says, in the reassuring way that he’d frequently used on Kappy when they first started sceneing together. It’s been months since he last had to be that careful with Kappy, but the tone still has a calming effect on him. “Any idea what you want to do?”

“I was thinking I could, uh, spank him? I don’t think I can do the whole—” He mimics slapping Kappy in the face and then flushes. Kappy’s own cheeks feel hot but for an entirely different reason.

“That’s fine, not everyone’s into that. There’s a lot of other stuff you can do though. Hitting someone isn’t the only way to cause the right kind of pain.” Freddie trails a finger down Kappy’s chest as he says it. He presses down harder when he brushes across Kappy’s nipple, making him suck in a quick breath.

“Oh,” Travis says, very quietly, then louder, “I think I’d like to— can I try that?” Freddie’s lips quirk into a half smile.

“Sure. I’ll tell you if you get too rough, but I’m not quite sure that’s even possible today, is it?” He clearly doesn’t expect an answer, judging by the look in his eyes. Kappy’s glad for it because he isn’t sure he could give one without sounding too needy. He swallows reflexively.

“How do I…” Travis starts, looking at Freddie for more guidance. Freddie shrugs. 

“Doesn’t matter, just start somewhere and see how he reacts.” There’s a certain thrill to being spoken about like he can’t hear them. It makes Kappy feel more alert, more focused, even with the lingering pain in his face and his ass distracting him. 

Travis, it turns out, doesn’t need any more encouragement. He’s tentative when he kneels down and reaches for Kappy’s chest and hesitates, but then flicks his fingers against Kappy’s exposed nipple. Kappy gasps as the pain zips straight down to his neglected cock and Travis jumps, his eyes going wide. “Oh, wow.”

Kappy has no idea what he looks like, doesn’t currently have the brain capacity to think about it, but Travis must like it, because he does the same thing to Kappy’s other nipple while he intently stares at Kappy’s face, watching his reactions. 

“Good, right? You can go harder than that,” Freddie instructs. Kappy bites his lip when Travis delicately grabs his nipple and pinches. It’s intense, in a completely different way than the spanking or slapping had been. Kappy can’t get used to the sensation, can’t let it get him out of his head and make him float. This pain brings him right back to the moment every single time and he moans loud and needy as Travis twists his nipple. 

“Is he always like this?” Travis’ voice is breathless. He doesn’t even look up at Freddie when he asks, just keeps looking at Kappy, keeps playing with him. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty sensitive.” There’s pride in Freddie’ voice and Kappy has a second to revel in it before another mean twist has him clawing his fingers into his thighs in an attempt to keep from moving. “How about you try something a bit more intimate?” Travis’ hands pause, his fingers still touching Kappy’s nipple but slack, a temporary mercy. “Use your teeth.”

Kappy doesn’t have time to process that command or prepare himself, and Travis doesn’t wait. Kappy gets to enjoy the cool, alleviating feeling of Travis’ mouth on his aching skin for a second, and then Travis bites down.

A whine escapes from Kappy’s throat. His hips jerk up, desperately seeking friction that isn’t there. Travis bites harder the second time and Kappy’s whole body twitches at the sensation.

There’s a small reprieve while Travis switches sides and then he bites down on Kappy’s other nipple. The feeling goes straight to Kappy’s cock, makes his hips twitch up forcefully again, even as he tries to hold still. He needs something, anything to relieve the feeling of too much, too intense, but Willy had told him to wait, had told him not to come yet, so Kappy fights his own body for control.

“Fuck, dude,” Travis sounds awed. Kappy blinks open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed. A drop of moisture detaches from his eyelashes and rolls down his cheek. “You’re so fucking hot. Can I get you off?” Kappy can’t even process the compliment, let alone the question, so he’s glad he’s not the one who has to answer.

“No.” Kappy sits up straighter at Willy’s voice, his whole body going still instantly. “You can get off if you want to, but Kappy doesn’t come before I tell him to.” Another whine slips out of Kappy’s mouth and he doesn’t even know if it’s pleading or grateful, maybe both at the same time.

“Shit, that’s intense. You guys do this often?”

“That’s not really relevant,” Freddie chimes in. “Do you wanna keep going?” 

Travis bites his lip, looking conflicted as his eyes wander over Kappy’s chest. then back up to his face. “Can I try something else? I just— it was really hot when you—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Kappy can guess. He’s not sure if he’s glad or disappointed this particular kind of torture is over for now.

“Kappy.” Freddie doesn’t even need to say more. Kappy drops forward and pushes himself up, getting in the same position on his hands and knees that he had already been in before. “Make sure not to hit above here.” A hand brushes across his ass, lingering on the area just underneath his tailbone. “You can hit him anywhere here.” Freddie’s hands don’t even need to move much to cover the area of Kappy’s ass and run down the tops of his thighs. Kappy shivers.

“Some parts are more sensitive than others, but you’ll see that from his reactions. He’s really responsive.” As if to prove his point, Freddie pinches the skin just where Kappy’s ass meets his thighs, making Kappy’s body jerk as he bites down a moan. 

“Do I just...go for it?” Travis asks, and Freddie must nod or something, because it doesn’t even take a second before the first blow lands. It’s right in the center of Kappy’s ass and not particularly hard, but the skin is still tender from when Freddie had warmed him up before, so it feels good anyway. 

“Harder,” Freddie orders. The next blow is less tentative, more force behind it, but Kappy can still feel the hesitation. 

“That all you got?” he asks, and he knows he’s being a brat, knows that Freddie doesn’t like it, but it seems to be just the thing Travis needs. The next hits are harder, so hard Kappy nearly rocks forward with the force of it, only managing to catch himself through lots of practice.

“Good. Much better. Now try some variety.” Travis follows Freddie’s instructions easily, layering some more blows on the same spot before moving on. His next blows hit the outside of Kappy’s hips, first one then the other, taking turns. There’s a soothing quality to the rhythm of it, the expectedness, and Kappy feels his tension ease. Then Travis moves downward and Freddie hadn’t hit his thighs during the warm up, so the untouched skin burns when Travis brings his hand down with full force. Kappy gasps and takes a gulp of air, letting it out slowly as he tries to breathe through the pain.

“You okay?” Travis asks, sounding concerned, a bit freaked out maybe.

“Fine. Good. Do that again,” Kappy gasps out as he braces himself. Again, Travis softens the next blow, but when Kappy doesn’t flinch he gets back into his rhythm quickly. 

It doesn’t take long for Kappy to sink into it, to turn this into an endurance exercise, a test of how much he can take. Absentmindedly he wishes someone had told him to count out loud, because it’s difficult to keep track in his head. Time becomes irrelevant, only measured by steady blows that rain down on him, not seconds or minutes. It startles him when they stop, completely out of nowhere. 

“Kappy?” The edge of worry in Travis’ voice make Kappy think that this probably isn’t the first time someone had said his name. He knows he’s supposed to say something in acknowledgement, but words feel incredibly difficult and all he can come up with is an interested noise in response.

“He’s got like a word or something, yeah? Like, if he wants me to stop?” Travis asks, clearly worried now.

“He can just say stop if he wants you to stop. I don’t think he wants you to stop though, do you Kappy?” Kappy shakes his head with an amount of energy that surprises even himself. 

“Don’t stop,” he finally gets out. His throat feels like he hasn’t spoken in ages. “Please.” 

“See? He’s fine. You didn’t break him,” Freddie reassures, teasing only a little bit. “How about we get you somewhere more comfortable before we continue, yeah?” Large hands close around Kappy’s shoulders and pull him to his feet. His legs tingle unpleasantly from kneeling on the floor for a prolonged period of time, the carpet only helping a little bit. He’s grateful that Freddie lets him lean against his body to steady himself, holds on to him. 

“Mo, get one of those massage tables, would you? Jake, get me some water.” There’s a commotion at the other end of the room and the scraping sound of metal across the floor. Freddie’s hand strokes along his shoulder, then up into his hair, but this time he doesn’t pull or even tug, just lazily pets his head while Kappy catches his breath. A water bottle is pressed to his lips and Kappy opens his mouth automatically. The cold liquid feels amazing going down his dry throat, making some of the fuzziness in his brain dissipate. 

“You’re doing really well.” Kappy just leans into Freddie some more, nudges his head against his hand. Some water sloshes and drips past the side of his mouth and Freddie laughs, taking the bottle away again. “Your boy is handling this really well too. I’m impressed. Do you think he’d be up for more in the future?” The thought makes more warmth spread through Kappy’s body and he lets out a low humming sound from somewhere deep in his chest. Freddie laughs. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to ask you. How far down are you?”

“‘m still here,” Kappy mumbles, tucking his face into Freddie’s shoulder. The contact feels good against his bare skin. “I feel really good though. I want more.” Freddie’s fingers tighten in his hair, but it’s more playful than punishing.

“Fine. I guess that was a long enough break. Come here.” Freddie guides him over to a solitary massage table that someone had dragged into the middle of the room and instructs him to lie down on his front. The surface is covered in some sort of soft fabric that’s supposed to be pleasant on the skin, but it’s still solid enough that Kappy hisses, when his still tender nipples brush against it.

He tries to lever himself up on his arm to avoid the contact, but a hand on his back softly presses him back down and he doesn’t fight it.

“Anything you wanna say before we keep going? Any preferences?” Kappy shakes his head, pressing himself further into the cushion to chase the feeling. “Alright. Travis, come here.” There’s more rustling of clothes and footsteps around him. “Just do what you did before.”

It hurts different this time when Travis hits his ass. With this position, with his muscles relaxed, there’s more give to each blow, but it also feels like it reverberates through his whole body. Each hit moves him just the tiniest bit against the soft cover underneath him, and every time his nipples brush against the stiff material it sends a spark straight down to his cock.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s started restlessly moving his hips against the table until Travis’ hand stills on his ass. “Fuck, that’s so hot.” Kappy makes an attempt to hold still, but Travis gives him another slap, ruining the endeavor. “Can I fuck him?” Kappy’s breath catches in his throat.

There’s a beat of silence. “No, not right now. You can come on him though, if you’d like.” Kappy whines at the image Willy’s voice conjures up in his head and he pushes back into Travis’ hand as if to urge him on. 

“Not now? We can fuck him later though?” someone asks. Kappy can hear the rustling of clothes as Travis pulls down his shorts, and the slick sounds of him starting to jerk himself off moments later.

“Maybe. I don’t want to make him wait through that right now.” There’s a hand in Kappy’s hair, way too gentle to be Freddie, with the way the person lovingly brushes a couple of sweaty strands off his forehead and carefully tucks them behind his ear. He wants to look up, wants to assure himself that it’s really Willy, but Travis hits him again, and Kappy can feel his whole ass jiggle as he drops his head back down on a moan.

Travis’ blows are sloppy and unfocused now, and it takes a moment for Kappy to understand that it’s due to him hitting with his left hand. “Fuck, his thighs are so red,” Travis gasps out, voice already thin with how close he is. 

“You should see his ass,” Freddie retorts, and Kappy feels a cool brush of air as Freddie pulls down the waistband of his underwear. “He always gets like this. Beautiful, isn’t it?” There’s a strangled groan and then Travis’ come splashes across Kappy’s overheated skin. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Travis gasps out, but he doesn’t sound too embarrassed. 

“It’s fine, just clean him up.” Kappy can’t quite tell whether Freddie is amused about him or Travis, but every thought of that leaves his head when the rough fabric of a towel swipes across his ass.

He moans and squirms away, trapped against the table, and just the bit of pressure against his hot skin burns more than the individual hits had. “Sorry,” Travis says again, and this time he sounds like it too. He gentles his touch, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. It still hurts, and Kappy can’t keep still anymore, doesn’t even try.

“Please,” he gasps out, not entirely sure what he’s even asking for. Or who he’s asking. He doesn’t get a reaction, but when Travis has finished cleaning him up and the pressure against his skin lessens, some of the desperation inside of him fades away again.

It’s all too short-lived. Freddie pulls Kappy’s underwear back over his ass, letting the elastic snap back into place with a loud smacking sound and Kappy moans.

“Turn over,” Freddie orders. It takes Kappy a moment to comply. His arms shake when he pushes himself up, and he nearly slips, but Freddie’s hands around his biceps steady him and help him get settled. 

Even through the fabric, it hurts like hell when his ass touches the surface of the table. He tries to keep his weight off it, tries to arch his back and brace his feet, but Freddie doesn’t let him. He pushes Kappy’s hips down on the table, not roughly, but with enough pressure that it leaves no room for arguments. Kappy groans, even as he tries to settle into it.

“You’ve been doing really well. You deserve a reward.” Knowing Freddie, that could really mean anything, so Kappy stays quiet and waits for more. Freddie wraps one hand around each of Kappy’s knees and pulls his legs apart, planting his feet against the surface beneath him. 

“Don’t move.” It’s the only warning he gets before Freddie brings his hand down on his inner thigh. Kappy doesn’t even know what sort of noise he makes. It might very well be a full-on scream because it stings, much sharper than any of the other pain that had been inflicted on him so far. 

Freddie’s blows feel different. He keeps his hand tense as he hits Kappy with short, quick impacts, almost gone as soon as he touches skin. It reminds Kappy more of being hit with a cane, and he shivers at the mental image of that against the sensitive skin of his thighs.

“Stay still. I don’t want to risk hitting anything I’m not aiming for.” To underline his meaning Freddie brushes his hand across the seam of Kappy’s underwear, and Kappy is suddenly immensely glad that Freddie hadn’t made him take it off, that there’s something holding his more delicate parts well out of the way of Freddie’s hands. He shudders.

Before he has time to dwell on it any more, Freddie brings his hand down again, on the other side this time, and Kappy’s world intermittently drowns in a new wave of sharp pain.

It’s the combination that really gets him, the sharp sting of Freddie’s hand coupled with the deep-seated throbbing in his ass and the way his nipples still feel tender even though nothing’s even touching them. Despite Freddie’s warning, he can’t hold still, has to squirm after every hit as the interplay of sensations becomes too much to bear. 

Freddie is patient with him, grants him a couple of seconds to settle back down each time, but it’s getting increasingly more difficult to focus enough to stop moving at all. The simmering heat in his body feels like a roaring fire now. His cock is hard in his underwear, straining against the fabric and twitching at every hit. He’s so close, a tiny spark would be enough to tip him over the edge at this point.

It feels like he’s barely holding on as it is and all his body wants to do is come, but he can’t, he isn’t allowed.

He must let out a particularly needy whimper on the next hit, must do something, because there’s a soothing hand on his head again, stroking back his hair from his face and forehead, the skin cool against Kappy’s heated face, and Kappy leans into it, wants more of the grounding touch.

“You’re doing so well,” Willy murmurs, and his voice sounds so close by that Kappy opens his eyes. He’s standing right next to Kappy’s head, looking down at his face and not at all at what Freddie is doing. His touch is so gentle, but there’s something else in his eyes besides just affection, something strange and admiring that sends another thrill through Kappy. 

“Please,” is all he manages to say, but Willy seems to understand anyway. His eyes wander down Kappy’s body and widen when they land on the wet fabric of Kappy’s underwear.

“Do you think you—” he starts, but breaks off, biting his lip. Kappy wants to ask what he means, wants to give Willy whatever he wants, but Freddie hits him again and his brain short-circuits for a second. 

The hand on his head stops moving and then fingers tighten in his hair, just enough to feel it through all the other things happening to his body. “You’re amazing, Kappy.” Willy’s voice is close, speaking directly into his ear, drawing all of Kappy’s remaining focus. “When I tell you to, I want you to come. Can you do that?” 

All Kappy can do is whimper, loud and needy, and try to nod. The hand in his hair tightens some more. “Good, that’s good. Just a little longer. I’ve got you.”

It’s impossible for Kappy’s body to relax with all the strain he’s under, but something inside of him loosens at Willy’s words, like a spring that was coiled tight suddenly has a bit more give to it. 

Freddie hits him again, and the insides of his thighs must be bright red by now, maybe even showing welts with how precisely Freddie keeps hitting the same spots, but Kappy just lets the feeling wash over him now and breathes through it. His whole focus is on the maelstrom of arousal swirling through his belly and all he can concentrate on is not letting himself slip over the edge, not yet, not—

“Good, you’re doing so well. You can come now.” Willy says it just as Freddie lands another hit, and Kappy’s vision whites out as he comes. It’s like a wave rushes through his whole body, turning all the pain into pleasure and making every nerve light up with it.

His whole body is still shaking when he becomes aware of his surroundings again. Willy’s hand is still running through his hair and he’s saying something that Kappy recognizes as comforting platitudes due to the tone more than the actual words. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s just drifting by as a passenger in his own body, too content to drop back down to reality.

A hand brushes over the tender skin of his inner thighs and it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Not in the way it had before at least. Instead it feels like pressing on an old bruise, more sensitive than actually painful and Kappy squirms at the feeling, trying to get Freddie to press down harder.

“Is this normal?” Willy asks and this time there is some worry in his voice. Kappy frowns. Willy shouldn’t be worried, should never be worried about anything. He should always be happy, Kappy wants to make him happy. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I keep forgetting you’ve never seen him like this,” Freddie responds and Kappy’s glad he’s here. Freddie can take care of Willy, just like Freddie always takes care of him. Freddie is really good at that.

“I’ve seen him when he’s still down,” Willy argues. A hand softly touches Kappy’s face and he leans into it, nuzzling into the warm familiar skin. Willy has really nice hands. They’re not soft, couldn’t possibly be after all the years of hockey, but Kappy likes that they’re a little rough, has always liked that whenever Willy touches him.

“It’s not the same as right afterwards. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Kappy wants to preen at the praise in Freddie’s voice, wants to puff up his chest and bathe in it, but his whole body feels heavy, so he just lies there and lets it wash over him.

“Yeah, I guess. Kinda scary too. You’re sure he’s alright?” 

“I’m sure. Just give him a minute.” They fall silent after that, but they don’t stop touching Kappy and he’s incredibly grateful for that. He thinks it might be scary to float like this if there was no one touching him, but he’s not quite sure why. He likes people touching him. He likes these people touching him. Willy, always, of course, but Freddie too. All of his teammates.

It’s like his surroundings trickle back in slowly. He can hear the murmur of multiple voices in the background, can hear footsteps on the soft floor and smell the never quite pleasant odour of the locker room around him. He opens his eyes to find the familiar white tiles of the ceiling above him.

“Welcome back.” Willy’s voice is soft. His thumb brushes over Kappy’s cheek, just underneath his eyes, wiping away some of the moisture that had collected there. Kappy smiles, warm and content. 

“I love you,” is the first thing that comes to his mind, so he just says it. He feels so good, so completely at peace, and for some reason it’s important that Willy is here for it, that Willy sees him, has some part in this.

“I love you too.” There’s some amusement in his voice, along with a generous amount of fondness, and Kappy feels his smile widen. He really likes making Willy happy. “You did really well.”

Kappy lets the words roll over him like a gentle wave, dips his feet into it before pulling himself back to reality some more. He takes stock of his body slowly. The pain that had felt so all-encompassing before is muted now, a dull throbbing in his ass, a raw tenderness in his thighs. All the urgency of it is gone, leaving him languid and satisfied. Still, there’s something else.

“Willy?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, but Willy hears him anyway. “Are the others still here?”

“Yeah, everyone’s still here. Do you want them to leave?” Kappy shakes his head. 

“No, I—” He swallows, trying to collect his thoughts. “I want—” He can’t find the words. “I want them,” is what he finally settles on. Willy’s hand pauses on his skin, just a split second, but enough for Kappy to notice.

“You want to be good for them?” Willy asks and there’s a rehearsed quality to his words, as if he’s read them somewhere but couldn’t quite grasp what they mean. Kappy still nods, grateful that at least one of them has the right words at all. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I want to be good.”

“Anything in particular you want?” Kappy frowns a bit at that. Open questions are difficult. There are too many options, too many possibilities, what if he doesn’t pick the right one?

“I don’t…”

“You like being fucked when you’re like this, don’t you?” Freddie’s voice interrupts him. “Like people taking what they want from you?” Kappy shifts, pressing himself against the table as he nods. Freddie’s words don’t conjure up an image, but a feeling. A mix of pride and pleasure and satisfaction.

Freddie pats his cheek and it’s nothing like Willy’s soft touches, but patronizing in a way that sends a renewed spark through Kappy’s body. “You like being a good little slut, don’t you?” 

Willy makes a noise of protest that dies quickly in his throat. When Kappy turns to look at him his face is red and his smile is gone. He wants to say something, get Willy to come closer, come back, but Freddie grabs his chin and turns his head away.

“You get him when you’re done being good, yeah? Your good, pretty boyfriend, after you’ve shown the whole team that you’re up for anything. That they can do whatever they want with you, and all you’ll do is ask for more.” And that’s— that feels better, feels right. Having to earn Willy’s affection this way makes sense in his head, in the way just having it given to him never has.

“Yes. Please,” he says. He has to lick his lips with how dry they’d gotten.

“Well, then. Anyone have any deep dark fantasies they’ve always wanted to live out?” The room goes silent so quickly Kappy swears he could hear a pin drop. “Or well, anything they’ve always wanted to try, really. Now’s your chance.”

No one says anything, even though Kappy can hear the sound of movement, of clothes brushing as people fidget. Kappy shifts against the table. The room isn’t as warm as he thought it was and he suddenly wishes he had a blanket or something else to cover him.

“Uhm,” someone says, an unfamiliar voice, one Kappy hasn’t hear much before. “I, uhm, I might have something?” The person sounds nervous, and Freddie doesn’t stop him when Kappy turns to see who it is. Trevor is dancing from one foot to the other, clearly not quite comfortable with the attention, but eager enough to brave it anyway.

“Well, I’m not the one you need to ask. Remember the rules?” Freddie’s voice isn’t chastising, but it still carries an amount of authority that makes Kappy shiver. Trevor somehow gets even more nervous when he turns to Willy. 

“I was just thinking, you know. I’ve never had one of those, uh, porn blowies. You know, like, super messy, with hair-pulling and shit. And I mean he—” He breaks off with a glance at Kappy, turning a nice shade of scarlet. “He kinda looks like he’d be good at that,” he finishes weakly.

Someone snickers. Willy grins. “Are you saying my boyfriend looks like he’s good at sucking dick? Whatever gave you that impression?” He’s teasing, but Trevor turns even redder if that’s at all possible. Willy bites his lip, then flexes his shoulders, shaking off some invisible discomfort. “Yeah, he’s really good for that. Go for it.”

Even with the permission, Trevor looks lost. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hold on, we’ve gotta get him set up first,” Freddie says, reaching a hand around underneath Kappy’s shoulder blades. “Can you get up?” Kappy’s body still feels not quite his own, but he nods anyway, lifting himself up and sliding off the table with a half stumble, Freddie’s hands hovering at his side the whole time.

Mo hands Freddie one of the mats they use for stretches and yoga, and Freddie spreads it out in the middle of the room. “Kneel,” he says and Kappy drops down as gracefully as he can. He settles in his usual position, sitting on his haunches with his knees spread slightly, his shoulders relaxed and his head tilted down.

“Go for it,” Willy says again, and then Trevor’s hesitant footsteps appear in front of Kappy. A quick glance upwards confirms that he’s already hard, tenting his shorts. His hand is on his waistband, toying with it nervously instead of pulling it down.

Kappy raises his head and opens his mouth expectantly. Trevor swears, his hand coming down to grab his cock through his shorts. It’s not what Kappy intended so he tries to make it more obvious by sticking out his tongue, looking up at Trevor through the hair that keeps falling into his eyes.

“Fuck,” Trevor says again, and he looks stunned, not at all like he’s going to do anything. Kappy has waited long enough, he lifts his hands to free Trevor’s cock, guide him in and get him started, but a harsh noise from Willy makes him freeze.

“No hands,” Willy commands. “Trevor, stop staring and get on with it.” Trevor pulls his shorts down immediately, but then hesitates again. Thankfully this time Kappy has easy access. He leans forward even if he has to strain a bit to reach and licks at the head of Trevor’s cock. 

The taste isn’t particularly pleasant, but Trevor lets out a moan that sounds helpless, like he didn’t mean to make it at all, and Kappy can’t help but feel smug as he carefully wraps his lips around the tip of Trevor’s cock and sucks. He hollows his cheeks, eager to get another reaction, and Trevor doesn’t disappoint.

“Fuck, he’s so—” His hand tangles in Kappy’s hair and he hums in approval, swirls his tongue around the tip again, presses it into the slit just to feel Trevor’s grip tighten as he groans.

“Come on, Trev! Give him something to work with!” someone calls. Trevor is annoyingly careful when he pushes deeper into Kappy’s mouth. Kappy doesn’t feel like waiting for him. He pushes forward, sliding his lips down Trevor’s cock with the right amount of pressure, the kind that always makes Willy make the best noise, all surprised and turned on at the same time.

Trevor seems to like it as well, if the sound he makes is anything to go by. Kappy angles his head a bit, to make Trevor’s cock rub against the inside of his cheek, knowing the others will be able to see it as well. It gets him some more swearing from the background and Trevor’s hand in his hair tightening some more. 

“Shit, he’s good at that,” Trevor gasps. Kappy runs his tongue along the underside of his cock in appreciation and starts moving his head, setting a rhythm that’s too slow to be goal-oriented, but feels good anyway, especially when Trevor starts to thrust in time with his movements. It’s more shallow than Kappy would like, but better than nothing.

“Oh I’m sure he can take much more than that,” Freddie says, but he sounds oddly questioning. There’s a brief pause before he continues. “Why don’t you give him your whole cock so he can show you?”

Trevor stutters. His hips twitch and Kappy makes a pleased noise, pushing forward more, straining against the hold on his hair. “Can I just—” Trevor breaks off, moaning again when Kappy sucks particularly hard.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement, pushing into Kappy’s mouth until Kappy can feel him against the back of his throat. He pauses, not daring to go any further, so Kappy has to do it for him. He pushes forward and Trevor lets out a startled moan as Kappy takes him even deeper. 

There’s a moment of discomfort, but Kappy has enough practice suppressing his gag reflex that he can just move through it. He takes Trevor so deep that it cuts off his air supply, and the short burst of panic sets off fireworks in his brain. He swallows around Trevor, just to feel the resistance in his throat.

It’s too much for Trevor. He makes another startled noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a whimper and pulls back out, leaving Kappy panting at the sudden emptiness. 

“Fuck, dude,” he gasps out, “that feels fucking amazing.” He has a hand on his cock, which is red and hard, and right in front of Kappy’s face instead of in his mouth. Kappy frowns. 

“Well, stop holding back so much then. Give it to him properly.” That sounds like a great idea to Kappy. He licks his lips. 

“I don’t— I don’t wanna hurt him,” Trevor admits, looking down a bit uncertainly. Freddie snorts. Kappy appreciates the sentiment.

“Just hold still then,” Willy says, and his voice makes Kappy perk up. He knows better than to turn his head and look for him, but his whole focus still shifts. “Just hold still and let Kappy give you the best blowjob of your life.” A warm flush goes through Kappy’s body, going straight to his own cock. He shifts on his knees, his fingertips digging into his bare thighs. 

Something touches the back of Kappy’s neck and he leans into it automatically, his awareness zeroing in on the one point of contact. “Let him show you how good he can be,” Willy continues, his fingers brushing over the tops of Kappy’s shoulders leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. Kappy’s body burns with it. 

“What do I do?” Trevor asks, sounding breathless, his eyes flicking back and forth between Kappy’s face and Willy, as if he can’t quite decide where his attention should go. 

“Whatever you want. Nothing. Just enjoy.” Willy’s fingers disappear and Kappy has to swallow down a noise of disappointment. “Be good for him, yeah?” The words are quiet, but they hit Kappy like a bolt of lightning. 

He shuffles forward on his knees to get closer, ignoring Trevor’s gasp of surprise, and closes his lips around his cock. He doesn’t take it slow this time, doesn’t tease or play, just swallows down as much as he can, until his nose brushes against Trevor.

“Holy fuck,” Trevo gasps out, but Kappy doesn’t even listen to him, just sinks down, again and again. He can’t set a fast pace with how deeply he’s taking Trevor, but it feels good anyway if the noises are anything to go by. Saliva drips down Kappy’s chin, and Trevor presses his fingers to his jaw, then his cheek, until he can feel his own cock in Kappy’s mouth.

Kappy hums in approval, pleased that Trevor is finally getting into the spirit of things, and Trevor lets out another moan at the sensation of the vibrations against him. Trevor’s fingers move to touch Kappy’s lips where they’re stretched tight around his cock, before slipping one of them inside Kappy’s mouth alongside.

The extra stretch is unpleasant in the best way, getting in Kappy’s way just enough that he has to work a bit harder to make it good.

“Fuck, I— I’m not gonna last,” Trevor gets out. Kappy swallows him down to the root and sucks. 

“Come on his face,” Freddie says, and that’s too much for Trevor. He starts coming before he can pull out, and thrusts into Kappy’s mouth instead. Kappy does his best to swallow through it, sputtering only a little.

“Fuck, sorry. That was—” Trevor doesn’t finish his sentence, just stares down at Kappy with wide eyes. Kappy licks at his softening cock, still in his mouth, and Trevor makes a hurt noise and finally pulls out. “That was—” Trevor tries again. “I’ve never—”

“You’re not very good at following instructions, are you?” Freddie asks and Kappy doesn’t even have to look at him to know what expression he’s wearing. 

“That wasn’t my fault,” Trevor protests, hastily stuffing his cock back into his shorts. “You have no idea what it felt like, when he—”

“Don’t I?” Freddie asks, and Trevor stops babbling immediately. His eyes go even wider as they wander back and forth between Freddie and Kappy. Kappy licks his lips. There’s a slight scratching in his throat, a bit of discomfort in his jaw, and a twinge at the corners of his mouth, but there’s nothing else that indicates what he’d just done. Nothing to remind him. He feels oddly cheated.

“I thought you two just—”

“None of your business,” Freddie says firmly. He’s not even looking at Trevor as he pushes him out of the way and crouches down in front of Kappy. His hand comes up to grab Kappy’s jaw, to turn his head, and Kappy lets him, just goes with the movement. 

“You can do better than that,” Freddie says, voice quieter now. His thumb rubs across Kappy’s chin, strokes over the wet, slightly sticky skin there. “You want to do better, right?” Freddie presses two of his fingers into Kappy’s mouth when he nods. Kappy accepts them gratefully and starts licking at the pads of Freddie’s fingers, just tiny laps against the rough skin. 

Freddie presses down on his tongue and Kappy goes still. “Such a shame to waste,” he murmurs, sounding like he’s talking mostly to himself. A spike of heat shoots through Kappy’s body, pushing aside all leftover annoyance. He starts sucking on Freddie’s fingers, hollowing his cheeks in a way he knows looks good as he starts moving his head. 

Freddie doesn’t move, doesn’t give him a sign that he’s doing well, but he doesn’t stop him either, just looks at Kappy with his serious, intent eyes. 

“Anyone here think they can appreciate him a bit more?” He’s clearly talking to the whole room, but his gaze is still fixed on Kappy’s face, lingering on his mouth. “Give it to him properly? No holding back?”

“I mean, if you’re looking for volunteers,” Naz offers, and Kappy can’t see his face, can’t see anything but Freddie in front of him, but he sounds amused. Interested.

“You’ve done this before?” Freddie asks, turning to look at Naz. He pulls his fingers out of Kappy’s mouth and Kappy doesn’t manage to catch the disappointed whine that leaves his throat. 

“I know how to fuck someone’s face without hurting them, if that’s what you mean.” It’s not a straight answer but it sends a desperate thrill through Kappy’s body, and it seems to be good enough for Freddie. He straightens up, and Kappy can’t help but miss the closeness, the way Freddie always fills up all the space around him.

“Behave,” Freddie says, tipping his still wet fingers against Kappy’s chin, voice affectionate. “Show Naz how good you can be.” Kappy straightens his back, folds his hands in his lap and bows his head, before going completely still. 

“Good boy.” Freddie’s tone is mocking in a way that sends a spark of electricity down Kappy’s spine. He takes a couple of steps back, disappearing from Kappy’s field of vision but not quite managing to melt into the background. “Do you want some pointers?”

“I think I got it. Anything that’s off limits?” There’s a second of silence.

“Make sure his hands are free, if you’re holding his head still. Just so— you know.” Willy sounds anxious. Kappy can picture him biting his lip all too well, even as he obediently stares down at the carpeted floor and doesn’t look up to confirm it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt your boy. Not in any way he doesn’t want.” Naz sounds calm, none of the nervousness that Trevor had had in his voice. His stance when he comes to stand in front of Kappy doesn’t hint at any nerves either, but it’s not until he grabs Kappy’s hair in a firm grip and makes him raise his head that Kappy feels the last bit of tension slide off him.

“You’re gonna be a good little slut for me, aren’t you?” Naz asks and Kappy moans, half in agreement, half because of the delicious pull against his scalp as Naz tightens his grip. He shoots a quick glance somewhere over Kappy’s head and smirks. “Your boyfriend doesn’t like it when I call you that, but you do.”

It’s not a question, but Kappy tries to nod anyway. The hand that’s not tangled in his hair goes to his jaw, pushing against the joint there so Kappy has to open his mouth. It’s unnecessarily rough. Kappy leans into the pressure to feel it more and Naz laughs.

“Yeah, you definitely like it. You wanna suck my dick?” Kappy whimpers, tries to get closer to Naz, but the grip in his hair doesn’t slacken. “No, you’re gonna hold still and take what I give you.” His tone is so different from Freddie’s, more teasing, less hard, but somehow just as commanding. 

Kappy holds still, just like he’d been told. He makes all his muscles go rigid as he waits for Naz’ next action, his next order. The hand around his jaw releases, but Kappy doesn’t move. Naz pulls down his shorts, and Kappy is pleased to see that he’s more than halfway hard already. He distantly wonders if Naz had liked what Kappy had done for Trevor, or if he’s getting off on being in charge like this, on Kappy on his knees in front of him.

It doesn’t matter either way. “Open your mouth wider,” Naz orders and Kappy does. Naz doesn’t waste any time pushing into his mouth, but his grip on Kappy’s hair slackens a bit, just enough that Kappy could pull away if he really wanted. He pushes closer instead, sinking down on Naz’ cock with enthusiasm and starts sucking as soon as Naz stops, his cock almost touching the back of Kappy’s throat. Naz laughs again, but there’s a breathless quality to it.

“You’re perfect for this. Taking it so well,” he praises and Kappy shifts on his knees, his fingers fluttering along the naked skin of his thighs restlessly, looking for something to hold on to. “You can take more can’t you?” Kappy tries to push forward, tries to show Naz what he can do, but the grip in his hair tightens again. Kappy has to blink back the tears that shoot to his eyes at the sharp pain of it.

“Ah, I didn’t say you could move. You’re only getting what I’m giving you, yeah?” Kappy doesn’t quite manage a whine with his mouth as full as it is, but he’s pretty sure Naz can feel it anyway. He thrusts into Kappy’s mouth, shallow, but Kappy still has to concentrate not to gag on it as his cock pushes past what’s comfortable. The next thrust doesn’t take him by surprise and he manages to relax his throat around the intrusion easily. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” Naz says, pumping his hips in a rhythm that’s still far too slow for Kappy’s liking, even with as deep as he goes. He tries to press forward again, take even more, but Naz doesn’t let him. “Stop being so impatient.” Naz keeps going like this, thrusting into Kappy’s mouth at a moderate pace, pushing deep, but never pushing all the way in, and leaving Kappy hanging on as he holds his head still.

It’s a surprise when he does thrust deeper and Kappy almost coughs at the unexpected feeling. “I think you’re ready for more now,” is all the warning Kappy gets before Naz pulls his head forward making Kappy take him all the way on the next thrust. Kappy can’t breathe for a second, all his senses going on high alert at the unexpected feeling, but then Naz pulls back, pulls all the way out, and air rushes into Kappy’s lungs as he takes a gasping breath.

“Can’t handle it?” Naz asks, one eyebrow raised, challenge clear in his voice. 

Kappy’s voice comes out as a croak when he answers. “No, please. I can.” He looks up at Naz, still panting for air. “I can now.”

“Well if you say so,” Naz agrees, and then pushes back into Kappy’s mouth. He’s prepared for it this time, can swallow around Naz’ cock as it slides down his throat and briefly cuts off his air, before he pulls back. “Better.” He pulls Kappy’s head forward just like he had before, not even bothering to warn him this time, but Kappy rolls with it, lets Naz move him as he likes, lets Naz fuck his mouth in a slow, deep rhythm.

It’s rough, and it hurts, and Kappy loves it. He hums low in his throat, pleased, and Naz’ hips stutter. “Fuck, do that again,” he gasps out, and pulls Kappy even closer on the next thrust, so much that his nose brushes against Naz’ skin. The sound Kappy makes is more of a whine than a hum this time, but it seems to be working for Naz either way. He does this a couple more times, thrusting in deep enough to push past the resistance of Kappy’s throat, deep enough for it to be uncomfortable, and Kappy loses himself in the sensation.

He has no idea how long they’ve been doing this when Naz speeds up, his movements becoming more shallow as they get faster. 

Kappy tries to move with him, but it’s impossible. Naz is holding his head completely immobile as he moves his hips, pushing into Kappy’s mouth with quick, hard thrusts. The stretch on the corners of Kappy’s mouth is uncomfortable, his scalp hurts from the rough treatment, and his throat feels like sandpaper when he tries to make a noise around Naz’ cock. 

Naz laughs. “Can’t believe you’re getting off on this.” A tiny, quiet part at the back of Kappy’s mind thinks he should be embarrassed, but he can’t quite figure out why. Belatedly he notices that his own cock is hard in his underwear again, but there’s no urgency to it, no need to come. Not until Naz is finished, until he’s done a good job.

Kappy moans around Naz’ cock again, can’t really do anything else except carry on, can’t even suck or lick properly with the way Naz is directing everything, but that’s okay. That’s what Naz wants after all. That’s how he wants Kappy.

Naz swears and pulls out so quickly Kappy is left blinking in surprise, his mouth still hanging open as Naz puts a hand on his own cock and starts jerking himself off with fast strokes. Kappy closes his eyes and raises his face.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Some of Naz’ come hits Kappy’s cheek, some dripping down to his chin, but the majority landing on his lips, leaving behind a bitter, salty taste. Kappy resists the urge to lick at it, just holding still. 

“Look at you,” Naz murmurs, sounding out of breath and a bit awed. Kappy’s chest swells with pride. He opens his eyes to find Naz crouching down in front of him at eye level, and leans into it when Naz puts a hand on his cheek. Naz’ thumb brushes over Kappy’s lips, spreading around the mess, before he starts pushing it into Kappy’s mouth. Kappy dutifully licks his fingers clean without even thinking about it, and Naz laughs again. 

He ruffles Kappy’s hair affectionately before getting off the floor. Kappy stays behind, feeling used in the best possible way. He resists the urge to reach up and touch his face. He can feel Naz’ come cooling on his skin, can imagine what he must look like.

A hand touches his hair. Kappy has lost count of how many times that’s happened today. He’s glad he’d let his hair grow out. The pull feels amazing every time. 

“That was much better,” Freddie praises, looking down at him as he cards his fingers through Kappy’s hair, far too gently. Kappy doesn’t move. 

“Can I go next?” someone asks, excitement obvious. Freddie shakes his head without looking up. 

“This isn’t about you. This is about Kappy, and we wouldn’t want him to get bored, right?” Kappy isn’t bored. He feels great. His throat hurts, but he’s never deepthroated two guys in a row. A third might be interesting. Maybe even a fourth. “You need some variety, or you just start drifting off.” Freddie is probably right. He’s usually right. He knows these things. 

Kappy is already feeling a bit floaty again, like he’s a guest in his own body, like the connection between his brain and his skin is delayed, not all the information coming through at once. 

Freddie’s finger touches his cheek, touches the drying come still sticking to the skin there. Kappy flushes. “You like being marked up a bit, don’t you?” Freddie murmurs, and Kappy nods. “I know just the thing to wake you up then.” He pulls lightly at Kappy’s hair. “Get up.”

It takes longer than it should for Kappy to get his feet back under him. He has to brace his hands against the floor to push himself up. He feels wobbly, like balancing on two feet is strange for some reason. His right knee twinges and he frowns down at the floor.

Freddie’s hand on his shoulder guides him back over to the massage table. “On your front,” he orders and Kappy climbs on without much difficulty. There’s a spark of pain when his chest touches the table, his nipples still sensitive from Travis’ earlier treatment, but the pain is muted, far away. He shifts against the feeling. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get something to focus on in a minute.” Freddie’s voice makes him look to the side, but Freddie isn’t looking at him. “Mitch,” he calls, “get over here.” There a pitter of footsteps and then Mitch appears in Kappy’s field of vision. Kappy isn’t really sure what to make of his face, so he smiles up at him. The smile he gets in return looks strained.

“How do you feel about going next?” Freddie asks, and Mitch jumps, even though he must have expected this. Kappy did.

“I— What do you want me to do?” There’s a waver in his voice, making Kappy frown.

“Something that hurts. Something that he can’t just sink into. Something he’ll remember for a bit.”

“I—” Mitch breaks off to take a deep breath, before he can continue. “I’ve never really… I mean, I don’t really know…” He trails off and bites his lip.

“There’s all kinds of different things you could do,” Freddie continues, not humoring Mitch’s doubts at all. “Nothing that requires a lot of force, nothing that’ll leave any permanent marks, just—” Without warning Freddie reaches for Kappy’s bicep and pinches him, hard. Kappy gasps at the sudden pain. “—something that’s a bit mean. Mean enough to make sure he’ll feel it.”

“Oh.” Mitch sounds interested now. “So I just—” He pinches Kappy’s other arm, not nearly as hard as Freddie had. Kappy barely feels it. 

“Harder. You should also try different spots, he’s quite sensitive in some places.” Mitch’s fingers ghost across Kappy’s arm, barely-there touches. Kappy could look, could try to anticipate, but not knowing is half the thrill of this, so he closes his eyes and rests his cheek against the covering of the table.

The next pinch isn’t on his arm at all, and Kappy can definitely feel it this time. Mitch squeezes the sensitive skin of Kappy’s hip so hard that Kappy’s whole body jerks at the sting. The fingers disappear instantly, but the fleeting pain remains for a bit longer.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Mitch asks, back to sounding hesitant now. He touches the same spot on Kappy’s hip gently, as if to soothe the pain somehow. There must be a red mark there. Kappy wants to touch it, wants to see if he can feel it.

“That was great. Anything that makes him react like that is good.”

Kappy can hear Mitch exhale, long and deep. “Okay, I got this.” Nothing happens for a moment, then Mitch’s fingers dig into the skin just underneath Kappy’s ribs. It hurts. It hurts a lot for as short as it lasts, a sharp stinging pain that lingers underneath the skin, different from anything before.

That seems to give Mitch more confidence, because the next few pinches follow in short succession. He works a whole row along Kappy’s side and Kappy whimpers, not able to control the way his arm clamps down to protect his vulnerable flank. 

“Ah, none of that,” Freddie admonishes, pulling his arm away, leaving Kappy unprotected. There’s a brief pause, but then Mitch’s fingers are back, just as merciless as before. Kappy can’t help but flinch away. “Kappy? Do you want something else?” Freddie doesn’t sound worried, but there’s an edge of something unfamiliar in his voice. 

“No, don’t— Don’t stop. I just— I need—” He’s searching for words again, but they aren’t there. He doesn’t want Mitch to stop, wants him to keep going, to do more, but his body isn’t behaving.

“Do you want someone to help you keep still?” Freddie asks and Kappy nods gratefully. Large hands wrap around his wrists only seconds later, pinning his arms above his head, leaving his body exposed. They’re not Freddie’s hands.

“Hey, buddy,” Mo says, voice calm and soothing. “I’m gonna help you, yeah?” Kappy just nods and flexes his wrists experimentally. Mo’s hold doesn’t budge. He isn’t able to focus on that for long. Mitch’s fingers bite into his lower back this time. Kappy whines, his body twitches, but Mo doesn’t let him pull away. 

There’s a short break as Mitch walks around table and then he’s back, doing the exact same to Kappy’s other side. Kappy feels freshly bruised, like every movement tears at tender skin. He could sob with how good it feels, how alive it makes him feel, all those endorphins rushing through his body. 

He’s just getting used to the sensation, knows what to expect, when Mitch switches it up. Instead of pinching him, he lays his hand on Kappy’s shoulder blade and then rakes his fingernails all the way down to the edge of Kappy’s underwear, leaving burning scratches all over his skin. Kappy moans and squirms against Mo’s hold.

The burn fades fast, faster than the pain from the pinching and it doesn’t radiate outward in the same way. Kappy can practically imagine the red lines clearly visible on his back though, can feel exactly where they are. He shivers. 

“Oh, good idea,” Freddie praises. He touches one finger to the raised skin, traces it down to the dip of Kappy’s back. Kappy doesn’t dare to breathe. “Add some more.”

Mitch doesn’t wait. He scratches long lines down the other side of Kappy’s back, deliberates a moment, and then does the same thing down his side. It stings a lot worse in the places he’d pinched before, where the skin is already red and sensitive, and Kappy can’t keep in the noises he’s making, more grateful than ever that Mo is holding him still. 

“How about you scratch him here?” Freddie asks, and Kappy doesn’t know where he’s pointing, but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out. Mitch’s nails rake across the backs of his thighs, where the skin is still bruised and sore, the blood close to the surface, and this time the burning holds on. 

Kappy whimpers, instinctively tries to pull his legs in, to pull away and shield himself, but the pressure of Freddie’s hand on his hip stops him. “Looks like that’s a good spot. Do it again.” Mitch’s nails hurt even more the second time, and the third time. There’s a short reprieve when he switches to the other leg, but the skin there isn’t any less sensitive.

“Breathe,” Freddie tells him, and Kappy hadn’t even noticed that he’d been holding his breath, keeping all of his body still as he waits for the next stinging pain. 

Mitch’s hands are at his side again, clawing their way into Kappy’s skin and Kappy’s hips jerk down against the table. He’s hard, he notices vaguely. Again, or maybe still. He’d lost track of him own body for a while there.

“Oh.” Mitch sounds surprised, but not shocked. This time when he rakes his nails down Kappy’s back, his hands linger on Kappy’s waistband. “Can I…?”

Freddie doesn’t answer him, but moments later someone starts pulling down Kappy’s underwear, tapping his hip to get him to raise up. It takes him too long to comply, to block out the rushing in his body enough to get his muscles to work, but Freddie is patient with him. 

He carefully works the soiled fabric over Kappy’s hips and down his thighs, before pulling it off, leaving Kappy completely naked on the massage table. The material he’s lying on is far less soft against his cock than his underwear had been, but the friction feels great when he rolls down his hips again.

“Ah, not yet,” Freddie admonishes. “You haven’t earned that yet.” Kappy freezes instantly, his cock giving a desperate twitch at Freddie’s words. “Settle down.” He does, laying flat on the table, his cock trapped uncomfortably against his stomach. “Good.”

There’s a pause, just air brushing against Kappy’s skin for a moment, then Mitch’s nail scratch down his ass and Kappy groans at the burn. He’s sure Mitch hasn’t actually broken skin, but it feels like it, makes him feel vulnerable and exposed. Mo grabs his wrists tighter when he jerks against the table as Mitch does it again.

Kappy’s breathing heavy, panting, little noises spilling from his mouth every time Mitch touches him. It gets even more intense when he goes back to pinching, focusing on the spots that are already tender from his nails. Kappy’s whole body hurts. All he can do is keep breathing, try to hold still and not move his hips, no matter how much he wants to.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Freddie says and Kappy’s breath leaves him in a rush. The sudden loss of tension in his body leaves him feeling like he could sink straight into the table.

Freddie’s hand comes down hard on his ass and Kappy jerks so hard Mo can barely keep his arms in place. “Jesus, warn a guy,” Mo complains, but Kappy can barely hear him. Freddie hits him again and Kappy whines. It doesn’t feel like it had before. Instead of the steady throbbing pain, each hit against the sensitive skin sends up a flare of different sensations, the sharpness of the scratch marks stinging as the pinched skin burns. 

Freddie isn’t even hitting him that hard, nothing compared to what he’d done before, but it feels so different. It’s a lot. It’s too much. Kappy can’t— He tries to breathe through it, but it’s impossible, the mix of sensations inescapable. He squirms without meaning to, struggles against Mo’s grip without wanting to get free. He’s caught between pulling away and pushing closer, his world narrowing down to each of Freddie’s slaps.

And then it stops. The ragged sound of his own breathing is loud in Kappy’s ears, drowning out everything else. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them there are tears sticking to his lashes and he has to blink a couple of times before the room in front of him stops blurring.

A hand settles on his hip, another digs under his shoulder, and then he’s being turned over. He lets out an involuntary pained noise when his abused skin touches the table, when his own weight presses the scrapes and bruises deeper into the unyielding surface below him. A tear slips out of his eye and runs down the side of his face, leaving behind a wet trail that feels cool against the burn of his body. 

“Good.” Freddie’s hand settles on Kappy’s knee, a grounding touch. “You took that incredibly well.” The words calm Kappy, make it easier to breathe, to orient himself. He flexes his wrists and is surprised to find he can move them freely. He has no idea when exactly Mo might have let go of him. “How about we do something different now?”

The question draws his attention back to Freddie who is still touching his knee. His meaning becomes clearer when his hand slides up Kappy’s thigh, caressing the inside of it and pushing lightly, making Kappy spread his legs. His cock gives an interested twitch where it’s lying hard against his stomach. Belatedly it occurs to him that he’s completely exposed like this, naked and hard in front of all his teammates for the first time today. A shiver runs down his spine. 

Freddie is watching him with alert eyes, his hand stroking Kappy’s inner thigh as he waits for an answer. Kappy looks away, turns to look around the room until he finds Willy. He’s standing much farther away than Kappy had expected, almost like he wants to melt into the background, but he’s watching Kappy all the same and doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes.

“Please?” Kappy asks, and his voice is a lot more hoarse than he’d expected. His throat feels dry. Willy looks startled, but he manages to catch himself quickly.

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.” He bites his lip after he says it, and Kappy wants his lips, his teeth, on his own body, wants Willy fuck him in front of all their teammates, as rough and selfish as he can, but that’s not an option and he knows better than to ask. He’s satisfied with the next best thing anyway. He turns back to Freddie and nods.

Freddie isn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes are fixed on Willy, a calculating expression on his face. “That’s a bit general, don’t you think?” he asks, and Kappy isn’t sure what he means, not until Freddie elaborates with, “I think he should be more specific about what he’s asking your permission for.”

Something in Kappy’s stomach clenches. Freddie’s eyes meet his. “Go on. Ask your boyfriend if I can open you up so you can get fucked by someone.” Kappy has to swallow, his mouth too dry to speak.

“Willy?” he asks. There’s a red flush on Willy’s cheeks, but he’s not withdrawn, not holding himself still and aloof the way he does whenever he’s truly uncomfortable. Just a bit out of his element then. “I really want— Can Freddie get me ready? I want him to finger me but only if you want that too. Please.” It’s probably too much, going by the way Willy’s eyes go wide, a bit wild around the edges. Kappy doesn’t regret a thing.

“Of course, yeah. He should— do that.” He stumbles a bit on the last part, but Kappy can’t really fault him for that. “Just, be careful yeah? Do it properly.” That bit is directed at Freddie, who raises an eyebrow in response, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. 

“What? You think I don’t know how to take care of him? I could make him beg with just my fingers.” The words have an edge to them, an undercurrent, like there’s something Freddie isn’t saying, but still wants Willy to hear. “Maybe I should use my mouth as well? Get him nice and wet before I open him up? Would you like that?” Kappy makes a noise, can’t really help it.

Willy’s standing still, his spine a straight line underneath his practice shirt, but he’s holding Freddie’s gaze. His eyes look dark from this far away and his voice is quiet when he answers. “Maybe you should.” It’s like the air between them is filled with electricity, practically crackling with it. And it’s not about Kappy at all anymore, not really, and he has to close his eyes against the flood of pictures in his mind.

Pictures of Willy watching Freddie take him apart, yes, but also pictures of the two of them together. Freddie’s head buried between Willy’s thighs as he moans and clutches the sheets, clutches at Kappy, kisses Kappy, making helpless noises into his mouth like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Uninhibited in the way people so rarely get to see him, that he so rarely lets himself be.

Someone grabs his wrist and stops him mid movement. Kappy blinks, stares down at his hand, hovering inches away from his own cock. Heat rushes to his face as he drops his arm back down to the table. Freddie’s eyes are practically sparkling with amusement. “You should wait with that. Don’t want to be too sensitive when someone’s fucking you, do you?”

Kappy digs his fingers into the surface underneath him and shakes his head. “Good.” Freddie’s hand, the one that’s still lingering on his inner thigh, moves down to his knee, moves Kappy’s legs so his feet are braced against the table, giving Freddie perfect access. There’s the click of a lid flipping open. Mo hands something to Freddie and then there are cold, wet fingers pressing experimentally against Kappy’s hole. 

Freddie’s featherlight touch is so different from the way he usually touches Kappy, but that only makes him more aware of it. He’s still achingly hard, unable to touch himself and get some relief, nothing to even grind against in this position, and Freddie doesn’t give him anything, just presses lightly against the rim of his hole, never enough for his fingers to slip inside, just massaging in narrow little movements that make Kappy shiver at the promise of it. 

Kappy tries to roll his hips, push down against him, but that only makes Freddie pull away completely, drawing a whine out of Kappy’s throat.

“Impatient, huh?” He laughs when Kappy only lets out another needy noise in response. “I guess you have a reason to be.” This time when he touches Kappy, he pushes in with one quick thrust, knocking another noise loose in Kappy’s chest. Freddie’s fingers are long, and thick too, big enough that just one already feels good, already feels like a lot, creating a delicious pressure inside of Kappy. He moves his hips, trying to adjust, to get used to the sudden intrusion.

“I thought you said you’d be careful.” Willy’s voice is closer now, but just when Kappy turns to look for him, Freddie crooks his finger, making everything else disappear. 

“I said I know how to take care of him. And that I’m gonna make him beg.” Freddie starts moving, thrusting his finger into Kappy with quick, precise movements, never pulling out particularly far, but pushing into him insistently anway. Kappy moans at the drag of it. He tries to meet Freddie’s thrusts, tries to ride it out as best as he can and get his body used to it. 

It doesn’t take long for the sensation to lose the edge of being too much, too fast, and to start feeling only good instead. Even faster, it starts not being enough anymore. “More, please,” Kappy gasps out, rocking his hips down against Freddie’s hand, trying to get him to go deeper. 

“What was that?” Freddie asks and his hand slows down to leisurely thrusts, just barely-there little movements and Kappy whimpers.

“Please, I want— Please, more.” Instead of giving in, rewarding him, Freddie pulls out completely, leaving Kappy feeling empty and desperate.

“Told you,” Freddie says, and before Kappy can ask what he means, what he can do to fix whatever he did wrong, Freddie pushes back in with two fingers. The stretch makes Kappy momentarily lose focus, lose track of his surroundings. It’s not quite pain, doesn’t hurt like the slapping or pinching or anything else he’d experienced tonight, but it’s overwhelming nonetheless. He can’t focus on anything else, can’t think about anything but Freddie’s fingers inside him.

“You don’t have to be rough with him to get him to beg.” Willy’s hand settles in Kappy’s hair, playing with the strands and Kappy is so grateful for the distraction, for the contrast, the soft way Willy always touches him. Freddie starts to move his fingers, slower this time, and shallow, but just as persistent as before. Kappy’seyes fall shut again as he moans at the feeling. “He does that when you’re being gentle too.” 

Freddie’s fingers push in hard, his rhythm stuttering for once, and it’s so unexpected that it knocks a groan out of Kappy’s chest. Freddie doesn’t let him catch his equilibrium, doesn’t say anything about it, just goes back to idly opening him up as if nothing happened. 

“I’d like to see that, I think.” It’s not a challenge, but it sounds like a question. Willy doesn’t say anything, just keeps softly stroking Kappy’s hair. Kappy wants to open his eyes and look at him, but Freddie decides to pick up the pace, speeding up his thrusts deliberately this time, going even deeper, and Kappy squeezes his eyes shut as he moans. 

When Freddie’s fingers start grazing over his prostate on every deep thrust in it’s like electric sparks racing up his spine, lighting up all his nerves for a moment, making him shake with it. It’s not enough pressure, not sustained enough to last, but it makes the heat pooling at the bottom of Kappy’s stomach feel insistent, demanding attention.

He grinds down against Freddie’s fingers, tilts his hips to try and find the right angle to get Freddie to hit his prostate straight on, but it doesn’t work. He lets out a desperate whimper when he gets that it’s on purpose. “Please,” he gasps out, but Freddie doesn’t budge, just keeps not quite giving Kappy what he wants and that might be the meanest thing he’s done yet. 

The back of Kappy’s head thuds against the table and Willy makes a soothing noise, trying to make this easier for him, because that’s just what he does. Except the reminder of his presence only makes the heat inside of Kappy spike higher. 

He tries to get his wits together enough to beg for it properly, ask Willy to help him, anything, but just when he feels like he can speak again Freddie pushes a third finger into him. 

This time the sudden stretch does hurt, and even if it’s nothing Kappy can’t take, Freddie doesn’t move, just waits for him to adjust, waits for him to catch his breath. Willy’s hand brushes his cheek, a soft caress that makes it easier, makes it possible to let his muscles relax, to let Freddie in. 

He rolls his hips experimentally and Freddie’s fingers slide deeper, the pressure easing just enough to feel good. He does it again, letting out a pleased noise when Freddie takes the hint and starts moving as well. He’s being careful this time, going slow and pausing every time Kappy tenses up around him. It’s strange but not unwelcome, the thought filling Kappy’s chest with a glowing kind of warmth. 

He rolls his hips down with more force, sighs at the feeling of fullness, at the stretch and pressure and drag of Freddie’s fingers inside of him, and idly wonders if he should ask for this more often when they’re together. His grace period ends when Freddie starts to stretch him properly, twisting and turning his fingers inside of Kappy with a purpose, to get him ready. It doesn’t feel like being fucked in the way it had before, but it feels good anyway, makes Kappy shiver with anticipation.

“You open up for me so nicely. We should do this more often,” Freddie says, and it’s good to know they’re on the same wavelength about this. Kappy sighs in content agreement. He wonders what it would feel like to be fingered by Freddie if he was actually trying to make him come and a pleasant shiver runs down his spine. This is nice though. Unhurried and thorough, distracting him from his own arousal without reducing it, not fanning the flames but feeding the fire all the same, and maybe Kappy could even come from this, eventually. It might be worth a try, if Freddie’s amenable. 

Freddie finally pulls out, taking the languid, simmering feeling with him and leaving Kappy feeling cold. He opens his eyes to look at Freddie and relaxes back down when he finds an amused smile on the corners of his mouth. All according to plan then.

“I was getting a bit worried you might fall asleep, and I’m not done with you yet,” is the explanation Kappy gets. Freddie straightens up to his full height and looks around the room. “I need someone who can fuck him hard enough he’ll feel every single bruise on his body, without making him come.” Kappy’s gasp sounds overly loud in the ensuing silence.

“You don’t want him to come?” someone, possibly Mitch, asks. Kappy isn’t too caught up on that part, too distracted by the flaring up of the banged up parts of his body. His hips jerk and he clenches down on nothing, and suddenly everything is taking too long.

“Not from getting fucked, no,” Freddie confirms, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes when he looks down at Kappy that doesn’t match the coolness of his voice. “Don’t worry, I have other plans for that,” he adds, and Kappy doesn’t know if it’s for his own benefit or for the others. 

“I could do it.” It’s Mo who says it, still standing close by from when he’d been holding Kappy down earlier. He looks relaxed, not uncomfortable at all, which is a bit surprising. Kappy hadn’t pegged him to be into stuff like this, although he isn’t quite sure what he’d based that assumption on.

“Perfect, you’ll do nicely for this.” Freddie takes a step back, getting out from where he’d been standing between Kappy’s legs, making room for Mo to take his place.

“‘s not exactly a hardship,” Mo says and he doesn’t roll his eyes, but he sounds like he really wants to. He steps closer to Kappy, close enough to touch, and his hands are cold when he grips Kappy’s bare thighs. “Do you want me to just— go for it?” Kappy wants to nod his head, wants Mo to start already, but Mo ignores him, looking back and forth between Freddie and Willy instead. 

“Not yet. I’ll tell you when. John?” That throws Kappy for a second. John is a new addition. Sure, Kappy’s known him since the summer, has known about him much longer than that, but they’re not exactly close. For some reason he can picture him participating even less than Mo. He watches John come closer with some curiosity.

“Hey,” is the first thing he says, voice casual, friendly, laying a hand on Kappy’s side. His fingers span all the way across Kappy’s ribs to his sternum, a warm, solid pressure against his naked skin. “You were great out there today.” Kappy can’t help the snort of laughter he lets out. 

“You don’t have to be nice, you know? I let Naz fuck my face and he’s never nice to me.” That gets him a couple of laughs, although John just smiles benevolently down at him. 

“It’s the truth,” he says, with a shrug, still seeming entirely relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t quite fit the picture. “So, I talked to Freddie about it and he said you like surprises, but I wanted to check. Do you want to know what I’m gonna do to you?” The phrasing sends a shiver down Kappy’s spine. It’s impossible to get a proper read on John, but he shakes his head anyway. Freddie’s always been right so far.

He’s not prepared for John’s hand sliding up to his neck, just lingering against the vulnerable skin for the fraction of a second, just long enough for Kappy to marvel at the fact that his hand covers the entire area of his throat, before he squeezes. 

Kappy’s air cuts off. He knows he can’t breathe, but he tries anyway, can’t stop himself from automatically gasping for oxygen, even though John’s hand is neatly blocking his supply. He can’t hear anything, the noises in the room strangely muted, and all he can focus on is how he can’t breathe and— 

Air rushes back into his lungs and Kappy coughs before taking huge, gulping breaths. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his head, is hyperaware of the air rushing through his trachea. It’s like there’s electricity running all through his body. 

The sound starts to filter back in, not slowly but all at once, and there’s so much of it that it’s overwhelming for a second. Shocked whispers and movement and his own too-fast panting.

“Okay?” John asks. His hand is still on Kappy’s throat, but he’s not pushing, giving Kappy room to breathe. 

“Yeah,” Kappy gasps out and his voice sounds terrible, thin and reedy, even though it doesn’t hurt to talk. “I—” He breaks off, has to take a couple more breaths to stop his head from spinning. “Do that— again. Please.”

It’s like he can feel every single part of his body all at once, like he’s wide awake and everything inside of him is working at full speed. John doesn’t ask if he’s sure, doesn’t wait for him to settle back down. He just tightens his hand again.

It feels different when Kappy knows what to expect. He instinctively holds his breath, doesn’t even try to get air into his lungs, which makes it a lot less threatening, a lot less shocking. Still, the pressure against his throat feels good, the fact that he knows he can’t breathe, even if he wants to, feels exciting.

John holds on longer this time, long enough for Kappy to focus on the way his fingers are digging into his throat, where exactly he puts pressure, to enjoy the light tingling spreading through his body. 

The rush of adrenaline fades quickly after John lets him go, and the loss of it leaves him feeling floaty and on edge at the same time, like how he gets to feel when Freddie pushes him particularly hard.

He presses up against John’s hand on his neck and John rewards him by squeezing down again. 

Kappy lets go, lets his body relax and lets the feeling drag him under. He can’t breathe, can’t move, but that’s okay because John is in control. John gets to decide when he breathes and that feels good. There’s something freeing about giving someone else that much power.

His head calms down, goes from a whirlpool of adrenaline and feelings to a calm sea after the storm and he’s just floating along. 

“Mo.” Freddie’s voice rouses him, just enough to open his eyes when John lets go of him. He doesn’t remember closing them. Mo is still standing between his legs, but Kappy doesn’t register what that means until Mo grab his thighs, pulling him down along the table until his ass is at the edge, his legs dangling in the air awkwardly. 

“Okay if I fuck you now?” Mo asks, and a shiver goes through Kappy’s body. Everything feels dulled, less sharp, but the reminder brings the heat in his stomach crashing back to the forefront of his mind. He grinds his hips against nothing and frowns when it doesn’t help. 

He looks over to Willy and is surprised to find him farther away than before. He doesn’t say anything this time, just bites his lip and nods, and Kappy feels another rush of warm affection, gratitude. He wants to touch him, make him feel good, worship every single part of his body until he feels as light and floaty as Kappy does.

John’s hand presses down again, but this time he only pushes Kappy back down onto the table. He’s not really sure when he’d tried to sit up, but it doesn’t matter. All his attention is taken up by the feeling of Mo pushing into him. 

He’s careful about it, and slow, even with how thoroughly Freddie had prepared him before. The stretch of Mo’s cock inside of him feels good, reminds him what he was missing before he got distracted. Mo pauses when he’s all the way inside, giving Kappy a moment to adjust. Kappy doesn’t want to wait. The heat simmering in his stomach is back in full force, and his own cock aches with how hard he is, how much he needs to get off. He rocks his hips against Mo and closes his eyes at the drag of his cock inside of him. 

He gets away with it a couple of times, enough to find a good angle, one he can get off on, before Mo grabs his hips and holds him still. He starts thrusting into Kappy then, with enough force that his hips bang against Kappy’s ass with the dull slapping noise of skin hitting skin. Right at the spot that’s still bruised. 

Pain flares through Kappy’s body, because it’s not just his ass that hurts, but also the scratch marks which rub against the surface of the massage table with every thrust. He throws his head back and moans, wraps his legs around Mo’s waist and arches his back, trying to get him even closer.

A hand on his chest presses him back to the table. Mo doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, keeps pushing into him with fast deep strokes that Kappy can feel all the way to his toes. He can’t think about anything else except how good it feels, how much he wants to come, but it’s not enough, not exactly. 

John’s hand tightens around his throat, cutting off the noise he was about to make. It’s like the first time, like Kappy’s choking on nothing, trying desperately to breathe, but this time Mo is fucking him at the same time, and there’s not enough space in his brain to sort through all the different sensations. 

He lets out a pained whimper when John lets go. There are tears on his face, he’s pretty sure, but he doesn’t care, tries to catch his breath while he can. He’s moving, probably, but there’s no coordination to it, no purpose, he just can’t stay still. His fingers skate across the edges of the table, grabbing it to hold on desperately before letting go when that doesn’t do anything to calm the storm inside of him.

“He’s almost there. Help him along, would you.” The voice is familiar but Kappy can’t place it, doesn’t have time to dwell on it. John’s hand tightens around his throat again, at the same time as another hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off with hard, fast strokes. Kappy is so grateful he wants to sob, so thankful for the relief in midst of everything else winding him up tighter. He doesn’t know what kind of noise he makes, doesn’t care.

He comes at the same time that John releases his throat, the fresh rush of oxygen too much for him. His world explodes into white light, everything around him fading into the background. He doesn’t black out, not really, can still feel Mo thrusting into him, but it feels different now. If it had been like floating on waves before then he’s fully submerged now, experiencing everything as if someone had put a film over the world, dulling all sharp edges and muffling all impressions. 

He feels John’s hand on his throat, feels Mo’s hips slapping against him as he picks up the pace even more, his cock inside Kappy still hard. He can hear sounds and voices, but they don’t mean anything, they’re not relevant, like far-off conversations he’s not a part of. His eyes are closed, he realizes, but as soon as he does, he doesn’t want to open then, doesn’t want to deal with light and faces. 

He drifts along with the current for a while. His whole body feels good in the way that Kappy no longer feels attached to it, like there are no boundaries keeping him in anymore, no limitations. 

When he finally emerges, it’s strangely quiet. There’s no scraping of the table legs across the floor anymore, no slapping of skin on skin, no moaning. All he can hear is his own ragged breathing, echoing strangely in his head. There are hands touching him, his face and his neck, running down his chest and sides with soft motions as if his body was something fragile that needs to be handled with the utmost care. 

He should open his eyes, but he doesn’t. All the small and large aches in his body are slowly creeping back in. The throbbing in his bruised ass and thighs, the stinging from his back and sides. He groans and even that hurts. His throat feels raw in a way he’s never experienced before and it hurts to make a noise. He tries to shift, and moving hurts too. 

It’s not a bad kind of hurt, not a pain that would be distracting or restrictive. It feels like a reward, like the payoff for work well done and he languishes in the feeling as it zings through his body.

“Is this going to bruise?” Willy asks, and a finger gently brushes over Kappy’s throat. The touch doesn’t hurt, but it feels like a reward in its own right.

“Probably. I can give you some cream you put on it to help it heal faster.” Kappy would know Willy’s voice anywhere but it takes him slightly longer to place the second one. Freddie. That makes sense. Freddie should be here while he’s feeling like this. He doesn’t know why, but there’s something right about Willy being here as well.

“Yeah, thanks. That’s— I’d appreciate that.” Silence, only disturbed by noises that sound far away. The splashing of water hitting tiled floor and the quiet creak of a door closing.

“Is there anything you want me to— I can help.” It’s possibly the most unsure Kappy has ever heard Freddie sound. “I mean, if you need anything. I know this was a bit…”

Willy’s fingers brush Kappy’s hair out of his face, ghosting featherlight across his skin. “I like this part,” Willy admits. “I like taking care of him, after. I just can’t—” The fingers pause briefly before resuming their journey, brushing along the side of Kappy’s neck, where the skin doesn’t feel as tender. 

“You know he doesn’t mind, right? That you don’t wanna hurt him, I mean.” There’s rustling of clothing, footsteps, muffled by the carpet. 

“I know.” There’s no hesitation in Willy’s voice, no doubt, and Kappy’s chest feels too tight all of a sudden for the feeling trying to expand within him. “Hey, uh. Thank you. For doing this.”

“No need to thank me. I’m pretty sure I enjoyed that almost as much as Kappy did.” A pause.

“You didn’t get off.” More rustling fabric. A soft touch to Kappy’s mouth.

“Sometimes it’s not about that.” 

Kappy opens his eyes. Willy is right where he’d expected him, but it’s startling to see him look down at Kappy, his gaze just as soft as his touch. Kappy had expected him to be looking at Freddie instead, but they’re just standing side by side as they both stare down at Kappy. 

“Welcome back. How do you feel?” It’s a complicated question. His body hurts, will probably hurt more later on, and it’s a good hurt, but he’s not sure Willy can understand that. There’s a steady contentedness inside him now, a calmness that radiates outward and makes everything else seem warm and soft, and maybe that’s close enough to what Willy is asking for.

“Good,” he settles on and Willy smiles down at him. He’s beautiful, Kappy thinks, lovely. He never wants to stop looking a him. 

“Can you move for me yet?” Kappy tries, and his arms follow his command as he raises up one hand to show Willy. Willy takes his hand and presses a kiss to the knuckles before setting it back on the table. Freddie makes a small noise, almost like a laugh. “What?”

“Nothing. You know, you’d be a lot better at this than you realize. If you’re ever interested in learning more, let me know, yeah? Promise you won’t have to hurt him.” A shadow of red blooms on Willy’s cheeks. Kappy wants to trace it with his fingers, but his arms feel heavy.

Freddie’s hand tangles in Kappy’s hair, less loving than Willy’s touch, but still gentle. “You did really well today. Put on a good show for the whole team. And for your boyfriend.” He shoots a quick glance at Willy who’s steadily turning redder. “I’m heading out now but let me know if you need anything. Either one of you.” He runs his fingers through Kappy’s hair once more and then he disappears from Kappy’s field of vision.

Willy lets out a breath. Kappy wants to ask what just happened, but his throat hurts and it’s hard to speak. He leans into Willy’s hand instead when it brushes his cheek and closes his eyes. 

Eventually he’ll have to get up. Will have to get cleaned up and inspect the damage, and maybe he can ask Willy what he thought, what it had been like for him, but that part can wait. For now he’s content to just lie there and let Willy take care of him. He closes his eyes, and drifts some more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my extremely corny gangbang fic! I couldn't really help myself. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Ruin My Body (Ruin My Life)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694320) by [frecklebombfic (frecklebomb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic)
  * [[podfic] Ruin My Body (Ruin My Life)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716052) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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